On the Road to Nowhere
by DiabloCat
Summary: What started Skinner on the road to thievery? Rated for a bit of bad language. Songfic.


DiabloCat: A songfic, more fic than song though, about Skinner's past. I swear, I must have exhausted all possible stories by now…

ON THE ROAD TO NOWHERE

_The labour hurt peace is shattered…_

Young Rodney Skinner snapped awake as the screams echoed through the run-down house. This made it every day this week. He squeezed his eyes shut, but couldn't block out the noise. Wearily, he rose from his battered mattress.

_It's the middle of the night._

Skinner didn't twitch when the clock struck twelve. He'd done this often enough that things like that didn't bother him anymore. He continued padding down the stairs.

_Young faces hide in the shadows;_

_While they watch their mother and father fight._

Skinner's eyes widened, then narrowed, as he saw the huddled shape of his younger sister, Michelle, at the foot of the staircase. He dropped down silently beside her.

"You should be in bed," he hissed.

She pulled a face. "So should you."

He couldn't think of an answer to that, so he sat in silence, and simply watched his parents scream at one another like they'd done every day this week. The situation was getting worse. After a while, Michelle piped up.

"Hey Rodney?" she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think they'll ever stop?"

"I dunno 'Chelle. I dunno."

_He says she's been unfaithful;_

_She says her love for him is gone._

The fight was escalating and Skinner watched with growing concern. This was easily their worst fight yet. He fought the impulse to cover his sister's ears as they shouted louder and louder.

"Slut!"

"Go to hell!"

"Fucking whore!"

"Shut up!"

"Don't fucking pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, bitch. I've seen you with that fucking bar-tender…"

"Maybe if you weren't such a lousy fucker, I wouldn't have to…"

The rest of her sentence was drowned out by the man's bellow of rage as he lunged for the gun on the mantle in blind fury. The women screamed again, this time in terror. Skinner realised what was going to happen moments before it did, and swiftly grabbed Michelle and turned her away. He squeezed his own eyes shut as a shot rang out, soon followed by another.

Michelle was sobbing in shock. He hugged her tighter. "Shh. Calm down. It'll be okay, we'll be okay…"

"Did he…did he…oh God…?"

Skinner screwed up his courage and tilted his head to look over his shoulder. The one glance was all he needed. They were definitely dead.

"Yeah."

"Oh God…" Michelle broke out in a fresh storm of weeping. Skinner, on the other hand, wasn't crying at all. He didn't particularly care for his parents. They'd never been good to him. But he did care for his sister, and without the parents, they were in deep trouble.

When the police came, they'd probably try to send him and Michelle to an orphanage, and might even try to split them up. Skinner couldn't let that happen. Michelle was tough, but it was a dangerous world. He needed to be around to protect her.

"What'll we do, Rodney?"

"Well," he said, trying to sound confident. "We can't stay here."

"Where'll we go?"

"We'll find somewhere. Come on." He gently tugged her arm, and she meekly followed. She turned her head to look at the bodies, but he stopped her. "No, don't. You don't want to see that."

They stepped out into the street, and were quickly lost in the darkness.

_And the brother shrugs to his sister and says;_

'_Looks like it's just us from now on.'_

_Oh we always need to hear both sides of the story._

_Both sides of the story._

A week later found both children huddled in a doorway, trying vainly to stay warm. Skinner gritted his teeth and cursed his dead parents with every curse he knew – which was a surprising amount for a twelve year old. Amazing what spending a lot of time on the streets taught you.

_(Chorus)_

_When the lights are all on,_

_The world is watching now._

"I'm h-hungry," whimpered Michelle. She'd been pretty good so far, dealing with sudden change on life-style with a quivery smile, but there was only so much someone as young as she could take.

The truth was; he had no idea what to do. They had no relatives that could help them, no money and no items except their clothes, a rubber ball and a ragged doll that Michelle refused to part with.

_People looking for truth,_

_We must not fail them now_.

Why hadn't he sat down and planned this first? Skinner turned his anger on himself. They should have taken some money, some food, some blankets. But no – he had to rush his sister and himself outside into the cold with absolutely nothing at all. The only reason they were still alive was because they'd managed to scavenge a bit of food out of bins, and that couldn't go on.

_Be sure, before you close your eyes;_

_Don't walk away from here;_

_Until you hear both sides._

Begging was useless as well. Most of the people with money couldn't care less about a couple of homeless kids. Skinner glared at one man resentfully – and then perked up when he noticed the man's wallet was sticking right out of his pocket. His eyes gleamed as an idea sprung to mind.

"Stay here," he whispered to his sister.

"What…"

"I'll only be a second."

He slipped over to the man, who had paused to talk to a friend. Skinner bit his lower lip and edged forwards, cautiously reaching out. It was right at his fingertips…

"Hey!" The man's friend had seen him. There was no time to think, only time to react. His hand reflexively closed around the wallet, and he twisted and ran, grabbing Michelle by the arm as he did so.

They ran until the enraged shouting had faded away, and collapsed, panting, in an alley-way. Skinner slowly opened his prize, and Michelle stared over his shoulder, wide-eyed.

"Lookit all the money!" she breathed, then turned to him anxiously. "You shouldn't have done that! We'll get in so much trouble!"

"Only if we get found out," he replied, still caught up in the excitement of the chase, and feeling rather proud of his success.

"But thieves go to jail!" she insisted.

"I'm not a thief!" protested Skinner. "Well…not really. You want to eat, don't you?"

"Yeah," she said uncertainly.

"This money'll get us food. I'm only doing it for us." A word he'd once heard his father say popped into his head. "I'm being a gentleman!"

"A gentleman?" Michelle giggled. "Whoever heard of a gentleman thief?"

"Gentleman thief," mused the boy. "I guess that's me."

_Both sides of the story…_

THE END

DiabloCat: The song was 'Both Sides of the Story', by Phil Collins, one of my favourite singers.

If I got any details wrong, sorry. I don't know whether Skinner had a sister, or what her name was. I don't know what happened to his actual parents, or why he started thieving. This is just the product of my unruly imagination.


End file.
